


weird science

by thunderylee



Category: Kis-My-Ft2 (Band)
Genre: Canon Universe, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Robot Sex, Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2019-01-16 11:55:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12342222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderylee/pseuds/thunderylee
Summary: It’s not really Tamamori, he knows. He’s not that delusional. But it’s the only way Miyata can have him, at least like this.





	weird science

**Author's Note:**

> reposted from agck. written for kink bingo.

Tamamori’s shoulder won’t stay connected to his arm, but a few more fiberoptic screws takes care of it. Miyata can’t even see them once he fuses the skin back together, smoothing it with his fingers while looking up into that face he sees every day, blank and emotionless.

He hasn’t figured out how to add that part yet. Science has only managed to recreate the physical appearance of a human being based on the DNA from a single strand of hair— _only_. Miyata rolls his eyes; that should be good enough, honestly. It’s not like he needs involuntary affection. If he wants to hear words of love, he can program Tamamori to say them.

It’s not really Tamamori, he knows. He’s not that delusional. But it’s the only way Miyata can have him, at least like this. Tamamori’s his best friend, but that’s all he’ll ever be. Tamamori—the real one—only likes girls. He’s really happy with the one he has now, actually. Miyata likes seeing him happy. Nothing compares to Tamamori’s real smile, which lights up every time she texts him, and Miyata wouldn’t compromise that for the world.

“Tama-chan,” Miyata says, and the robot lifts his beautiful, beautiful eyes upon hearing his name. “Let’s pretend.”

Tamamori knows exactly what that means, because Miyata had told him. The great thing about genetically-engineered clones is that they never forget anything they’ve learned. It was awkward in the beginning, being super specific about how he wanted Tamamori to react to his words, but it’s worth it now when those hands are on his shoulders, those eyes locked on his like they’re seeing straight into his soul.

They’re not seeing anything, but none of that matters when Miyata flings his arms around Tamamori’s neck and kisses him. Tamamori kisses back, a bit mechanically, but Miyata fools himself enough to get into it; for all he knows, Tamamori really kisses like that. He wouldn’t know. He’ll never know.

It’s easy to forget it’s not real, this Tamamori isn’t real, when strong arms embrace him and smooth skin warms under his fingers. Tamamori jerks at the touch, his reflexes long since programmed by now, and Miyata groans softly as Tamamori’s thigh presses between Miyata’s legs, rubbing against his growing bulge.

“Tama-chan,” Miyata breathes, and Tamamori grinds harder. “I love you.”

Tamamori doesn’t reply, because he can’t speak. Replicating his voice would be a tedious procedure, especially without the real Tamamori’s knowledge, so Miyata didn’t bother. At first he uploaded heavy breathing noises and moans, but that just sounded like the soundtrack to an AV movie and he quickly went back to the silence. In his head, he imagines what Tamamori would sound like. Maybe he’d be loud, maybe he’d talk dirty—after all this time, Miyata’s gotten really good at imagining all different kinds of scenarios where they could finally be together.

The robot just allows him to act out the physical aspects of it. Which isn’t always just sexual; Miyata can sleep in Tamamori’s arms, or he can be the one to hold Tamamori depending on how needy he feels. He has to be careful to keep the robot out of sight when the real Tamamori comes over, because how fucked up would that be? If anything would drive Tamamori away from him faster, it would be finding out that Miyata has a life-size clone of him tucked away in his closet.

He may not be able to do these things with the real Tamamori, but he can talk to him, spend time with him and learn new things about him even after all these years. He can appreciate all of Tamamori’s personality quirks that could never be replicated. He can be with the Tamamori he loves, whom he fell in love with at nineteen, even if it’s only unrequited.

“Tama-chan, please,” Miyata moans, tugging at both of their clothes and wishing for the millionth time that he could get Tamamori to help. That probably wouldn’t even happen in real life, he thinks bemusedly, and besides, he can pretend Tamamori’s eyes darken with lust as he unbuttons Tamamori’s shirt and pushes down his pants.

The tube of lubrication is already on the bed and Miyata coats Tamamori’s fingers with it, placing the robot’s hand right between his legs. Miyata whispers instructions to him, still blushing at saying the words out loud, but it’s necessary to keep Tamamori from hurting him. That’s what he gets for being too chicken to do it the other way, even though the robot is more than equipped to take it, so to speak. His body is identical to Tamamori’s, but that just seems like _too_ much. Miyata feels guilty enough using him as a sex toy.

He’ll take what he can get, and truth be told he doesn’t mind feeling the hard length inside him. He’s gotten used to it, anyway, so it doesn’t take long for Tamamori to open him up enough for Miyata to sink down onto his cock. Naturally that was the part Miyata was the most fascinated with when he’d first built the robot, doing all kinds of experiments to see if Tamamori reacted to certain touches and whether he could even orgasm. Miyata has to manually get him up and tell him when to finish, but it’s certainly better than the alternative.

“Oh, oh Tama,” Miyata gasps, bouncing on Tamamori’s dick while holding onto the muscular shoulders beneath him. Through his clouded vision, Tamamori’s looking up at him in adoration, though Miyata imagines he’s arching and tossing his head back from the pleasure of Miyata’s body tight around him. Blurring the line between imagination and reality doesn’t even take any thought mid-coital, and Miyata chokes back a loud moan when he puts Tamamori’s hand on his own cock and tells him what to do.

“Hey, Miyacchi, I—” that voice pierces through Miyata’s mind, but he’s so close that it just adds to his fantasy and pushes him over the edge.

He comes hard over the mechanical hand that’s fisting him and hisses for it to all stop, feeling the length inside him retract while both of the robot’s hands fall to his side. Miyata’s shaking, from the force of his orgasm and the rush of panic at what he heard. He’s nowhere near ready to turn toward his bedroom door yet, staring at the mess on the belly in front of him like if he doesn’t acknowledge anything else, it won’t exist.

“Miyata.”

Miyata squeezes his eyes shut, cold and embarrassed and ashamed and unable to do anything but remain where he is, straddling the replica of the man standing in his doorway, his best friend who had just caught him red-handed. He feels like he should cry, because there’s no way out of this, but his mind is still so wrapped up in this world he’s created that he hasn’t quite accepted the reality yet.

Then a warm blanket drapes over his shoulders and he pulls it around him, taking the opportunity to slide off of the robot and curl up into a ball. He can’t look at Tamamori—either of them—and wishes the real one would just leave, especially if he’s not going to talk.

“Go ahead, yell,” Miyata says quietly, piercing the silence with his voice for the first time in a few minutes. “Call me a freak, tell me I’m sick and you never want to see me again, just pretend you never saw this and _go_.”

“Don’t you have to clean it?” is all Tamamori asks, his voice sounding calm as ever. “Him, I mean. I guess he has a gender, since I can see his junk and all.”

Miyata lifts his eyes, too surprised to be hopeful, and finds Tamamori looking at his clone curiously. “Yeah, I should, but…”

Tamamori gives an understanding nod, like Miyata had just told him a story about someone he ran into at the grocery store and Tamamori’s showing that he’s listening and waiting for him to go on.

“I’m really sorry,” Miyata blurts out, and now Tamamori looks at him, eyes a lot harder than his nonchalant demeanor portrays. “I know it’s disrespectful, and creepy, but I just…I have no good excuse.”

Tamamori sighs. “Yes you do. You love me, right?”

“Yes,” Miyata says firmly, his heart beating faster than when he was about to come. “More than anyone. Anything.”

Wordlessly, Tamamori stands up and walks over to the bed, peering down at the robot. “He really looks just like me.”

“DNA regeneration,” Miyata explains, taking the opportunity to hop back into his clothes. “It’s actually kind of amazing, from a scientific standpoint. They still have a long way to go before they can copy living people exactly, but for situations like this…”

“Does he talk?” Tamamori asks, staring into his own eyes as he runs a finger down the robot’s jaw; it’s both the creepiest and hottest thing Miyata’s ever seen. “Does he sound like me? Say the things I do?”

Miyata shakes his head. “He can only do what he’s programmed. If you wanted to record your voice saying different syllables, I could upload a language script, but that’s a lot of work for meaningless words.”

“Even if I recorded the phrase ‘I love you’, it would only hurt in the end, right?” Tamamori asks, and now his face is sympathetic.

Instead of answering, Miyata darts across the hall to the bathroom, where he busies himself preparing washrags to clean up himself and the robot. When he returns to his room, though, he stops short at the sight of Tamamori’s lips pressed to the other’s, eyes closed and fingers threaded in the robot’s hair as they kiss.

Of course Miyata walks straight into his nightstand, banging his knee and making a loud noise, which has Tamamori quickly pulling back with a sheepish look. “What’s with that look on your face?” Tamamori asks, then his eyes widened. “Did you put it in his mouth?”

“No, no,” Miyata rushes to answer, and Tamamori looks relieved. “I couldn’t do anything like that. It was _too_ weird.”

Tamamori looks like he has a thing or two to say about this being weird, he doesn’t voice it. “I’ve always wondered, you know,” he says quietly. “What it would be like to kiss me.”

“He’s not you,” Miyata points out. “He only kisses how I’ve told him to.”

“So it’s more like kissing you then,” Tamamori puts together, blinking up at Miyata. “Right?”

“Why aren’t you mad?!” Miyata finally exclaims, slamming the washrag down onto the robot’s chest in his fury. “You should be completely disgusted with me right now! Instead you’re acting interested like this isn’t wrong on five hundred levels.”

“Miyacchi, we’ve been friends for years,” Tamamori tells him, blinking up at him with those gorgeous eyes that are even more beautiful on the real Tamamori. “Maybe if you had the rest of the group in here gangbanging him or something, I’d be a little upset, but the fact that you went through all of this trouble to build a life-size doll of me is kind of…flattering.”

“It is?” Miyata asks, carefully kneeling next to both Tamamoris to clean the fake one. The real one watches him intently, seeming to drink in how gently Miyata handles the robot, making light circles on his abdomen before lowering to tend to the nest of curls below his waist.

“Mika and I broke up,” Tamamori announces, and Miyata pauses mid-circle. “That’s why I came here initially, without calling first, because I didn’t want to break down over the phone.”

Miyata rushes to look at him. “I’m so sorry, Tama.”

“I’m not sad anymore,” Tamamori says, looking just as confused about it as Miyata is. “After seeing all of this, I feel like there’s no possible way she could have loved me even a fraction as much as you do.”

Miyata’s blood runs hot at that admission, which are probably the truest words ever spoken, but that’s not the only thing making his heart pound inside his chest. “But you can’t be with me.”

Tamamori doesn’t answer right away, just snatches the washrag and takes over wiping the robot down. “This is the strangest thing I’ve ever done in my life, and I’m a Johnny. You know this is what my junk looks like for real, right?”

“I do now,” Miyata answers, feeling his face flush with heat.

“I feel like if we were to actually do it, you’d be disappointed,” Tamamori says with a laugh. “I’m pretty sure I don’t last nearly as long as this guy.”

“Why are you even thinking about that?” Miyata asks. He’s trying not to sound too bitter, but definitely failing. “Don’t say things like that if you’re not gonna…”

“If I’m not gonna what?” Tamamori tosses the rag to the side and leans over the robot, giving Miyata quite a mindfuck. “Hey, do we look like twins?”

“Identical,” Miyata breathes, his arousal returning full force like he’s seventeen years old again. His breath hitches when Tamamori leans down to give his clone another kiss, this time lingering longer than necessary. “Why are you doing this?”

Tamamori takes his time pulling back, licking his lips before smiling down at the face that reflects back at him. “Getting used to the idea.”

“What idea?” Miyata asks, his nerves on edge.

Now Tamamori’s eyes are determined when they meet Miyata’s, that darkness Miyata’s been imagining this entire time shining through. “The idea of being with a man.”

Miyata’s still processing that when Tamamori leans over to him, taking his face in both hands and staring into his eyes. “Tama…”

“If you tell me he’s a better kisser than me, I’m never doing it again,” Tamamori says firmly, then leans forward to press their lips together. It takes Miyata a second to catch up, but he’s very aware that this is Tamamori he’s kissing, the _real_ Tamamori who has a mind of his own and kisses him like he’s got something to prove, and maybe he does.

The first flick of Tamamori’s tongue against Miyata’s has him shuddering, but that’s nothing compared to the small noise Tamamori makes as their kiss deepens. Miyata hadn’t realized how desperate he was for vocals until he got them, looping his arms around Tamamori’s neck and pressing close to his body like he was in danger of losing him at any second.

The next thing he knows is his back on the mattress with Tamamori’s entire weight on top of him, which, no matter how hard he’d tried, he couldn’t get the robot to imitate. Tamamori doesn’t seem likely to stop anytime soon, so Miyata curls his legs around the other man’s, chancing a few innocent touches on Tamamori’s back that seem to be received well.

Suddenly Tamamori tears his mouth away, holding himself up on his elbows as he catches his breath and stares down at Miyata. Thinking the worst, Miyata squeezes his eyes shut, but then a light brush of Tamamori’s lips along his jaw have them fluttering back open.

“I don’t know what I feel,” Tamamori admits quietly, using this low register that Miyata feels in his bones. “All I know is that watching you riding me like that was _so hot_.”

“Yeah?” Miyata asks, and Tamamori nods as he leans in for another kiss. And another, and another, until he’s stolen all of Miyata’s breath, until Miyata knows nothing but the inside of Tamamori’s mouth and Tamamori’s body covering him from head to toe. He can’t begin to describe the feelings that rush through him, overpower him, because this is _Tamamori_ , the real one, and it’s a million times better than any impersonator.

Much, much later, after what feels like forever but was probably only a few minutes, Tamamori pulls back more naturally this time and glances to the side. “Is it weird that I don’t mind him being here?”

“ _You_ are weird,” Miyata says with as much affection as he can manage with his mind blown. “I’m the one with the obsession, yet you’re the one who’s totally fine with it.”

“Seems to me like this works out for both of us then,” Tamamori points out, and Miyata doesn’t argue as Tamamori gets more comfortable on top of him, rubbing a hardening bulge against Miyata’s thigh. “Mm, Miyacchi, I wanna do stuff. Show me what to do.”

There’s a quip about practicing with the clone on the tip of Miyata’s tongue, but then the tip of his tongue is sucked gently between Tamamori’s lips and Miyata can’t think anymore. Instead he replies with his hands, reaching for Tamamori’s wrist and guiding it between his legs. Ironically it’s exactly what he’d been doing with the robot this entire time, except that he doesn’t have to tell Tamamori how to touch him once he feels Miyata’s reborn erection straining the front of his sweatpants. The unexpected groping has Miyata groaning, returning the favor by rubbing Tamamori through his jeans and feeling the resulting moan on his lips.

“Let me hear you,” Miyata hisses between kisses. “I never got to hear anything before.”

“Whose fault was that?” Tamamori replies, and Miyata’s about to argue that there’s no way Tamamori would have done this with him anytime before _right now_ until Tamamori lets out the sweetest moan that has Miyata’s hips snapping against Tamamori’s fingers. “Like that?”

“Yeah,” Miyata says in a rush of air. “Sounds so good, Tama.”

“If you want me to moan, you’ll need to earn it,” Tamamori tells him, kissing his way down to Miyata’s ear to emit a faint noise that has Miyata jerking. “Mm, you really like this.”

Miyata responds by flipping them over, nearly rolling on top of the robot who’s still lying there disinterested as he switches their positions. Now Tamamori’s body is beneath him, just like the many times before, but now he’s gloriously responsive and teasing and a bit ornery as Miyata leans down to fuse their mouths together, his hands slipping under Tamamori’s shirt to feel the contours of his chest.

He unfastens Tamamori’s pants and reaches inside, touching something strangely familiar though Tamamori’s reactions are anything but. He feels a dab of precome at the head of Tamamori’s cock and licks his lips instinctually, wanting to taste Tamamori and see how it fits into his mouth, something he hadn’t bothered to do with the robot since he wouldn’t have gotten anything out of it.

Living, breathing human Tamamori is already squirming before Miyata makes it down to his abdomen. He’s already up on his elbows by the time Miyata settles between his legs, looking up to find Tamamori staring down at him with those eyes he’s been wanting to see for so long. Miyata holds his gaze as he licks the tip, watching Tamamori shiver and gasp before doing it again, this time following with his lips.

Miyata hasn’t done this before, but he has one of his own and he hasn’t always had sex with robots. Contrary to his disposition, Tamamori doesn’t seem keen on rushing him, gently brushing his hair out of his eyes with more affection than he’s used to. As promised, Tamamori’s moans surface the instant his cock is in Miyata’s mouth, lips wrapped snugly around the shaft as his tongue flicks everywhere it can reach.

“Ah, Miyacchi,” Tamamori says, and Miyata’s never felt so aroused in his life, taking in as much as he can as he moves his head back and forth. Tamamori’s fingers tighten on his hair and it hurts so good, urging him to go a little farther, strain his jaw a little more. “I’m close.”

He wasn’t kidding about not lasting long, Miyata thinks as he pulls back a bit, but he’s grateful for it when he feels the ache in his jaw. He sucks on the head and Tamamori cries out, trembling as he fists Miyata’s hair and thrusts up into his mouth, coming in spurts on Miyata’s tongue that rushes to drink him down. It leaves Miyata light-headed as he lets Tamamori’s cock fall from his lips, lying his head on Tamamori’s abdomen that quickly rises and falls with each of Tamamori’s rushed breaths.

“If I wasn’t already going to do this with you, that would have decided it,” Tamamori gasps out, and Miyata grins as he pulls himself up Tamamori’s body. “You get a lot of practice on my twin here?”

Miyata shakes his head. “None. Wasn’t really a point in doing it.”

Humming noncommittally, Tamamori glances over to the robot, who’s still lying naked with his eyes fixed on the ceiling. “So how’s the sex?”

“It’s good,” Miyata replies, trying to sound just as nonchalant, though his cock is ready to burst out of his pants and fuck the first hole it finds. “It would be better with you.”

“Obviously,” Tamamori scoffs as he flops onto his back, stretching out underneath Miyata. “Does it hurt?”

“Not if you stretch enough,” Miyata answers. “I wasn’t very good at it at first, but I’ve gotten better at it over time.”

“You mean he has,” Tamamori corrects, thumbing towards his clone.

“I still tell him what to do,” Miyata says, sticking out his tongue to be a brat, which backfires when Tamamori grabs him by the hair and pulls their mouths together again.

“If you won’t let it hurt,” Tamamori hisses between kisses, “you can do it to me.”

Miyata groans, his body more than approving of this proposition. “I haven’t done that to a man before, you know. I only had him do it to me.”

“You still told him what to do,” Tamamori throws Miyata’s own words back into his face, and Miyata decides not to argue anymore. He grabs the lube and rubs the inside of Tamamori’s thighs, coaxing them open and kissing Tamamori to distract him from what he’s about to do.

The first finger goes in easy enough, Tamamori’s body relaxed from his orgasm, but the second takes more work and Miyata gives Tamamori some breathing room in case he wants to stop. Instead, Tamamori throws his head back with a sharp moan when Miyata touches something inside him, and Miyata smirks as he leans up to Tamamori’s ear.

“See what you’ve been missing out on?” he asks in a low voice, taking the opportunity to lick the gold hoop in Tamamori’s cartilage. “It feels good, right? Do you want more?”

“Yeah,” Tamamori gets out, lifting his knees as far as he can and rocking up against the touch. “Please take care of me, Miyacchi.”

“Always,” Miyata replies, dragging his lips back to Tamamori’s mouth to kiss away the whimpers as he puts in a third finger. “I want you so bad, Tama. Wanted you for so long, could never get this from the robot. Want to feel all of you.”

“Should have been more persistent,” Tamamori mutters, and Miyata almost laughs because if he were any more persistent, he’d have gone to jail for harassment. “Fuck, I want you too, hurry up.”

“Tell your body to hurry up,” Miyata says gently, kissing the frown that forms on Tamamori’s face. “It took me awhile the first time, too. It’s okay—I’ll wait as long as you need.”

Tamamori has the patience of a heroin addict, but eventually he lets Miyata in deeper and it becomes easier to move his fingers in and out. “I think I’m ready, Miyacchi, don’t make me wait any longer.”

“Don’t make _you_ wait?” Miyata grumbles as he carefully pulls out his fingers and lathers more lube onto his cock. “I don’t have a condom, so I’ll pull out, okay?”

“I don’t know, what if this guy gave you some weird disease?” Tamamori teases, nudging the robot again, and Miyata rolls his eyes. “I don’t care what you do as long as you get inside me _right now_.”

Miyata hesitates long enough to appreciate how Tamamori’s rim clenches at the air, desperate to be filled, and then he’s pushing inside, moaning along with Tamamori as he slowly overcomes the resistance. Miyata’s done this with girls before, but this is nothing like that, mostly because it’s Tamamori whom he’s loved since before he even lost his virginity and somehow it feels like he’s losing it all over again.

“Are you okay?” Miyata asks, already a little breathless as he leans down to wrap his arms around Tamamori and hold him close.

“Yeah,” Tamamori replies, his voice strained. “Yeah, it doesn’t hurt. It’s just…intense.”

Miyata smiles at that, hoping Tamamori means more than just the physical meaning as he leans up to kiss him and starts to move. It feels _so good_ that Miyata wants to take his time, savor the feeling in case it never happens again, but the way Tamamori pushes back against him makes him wants to thrust as hard as he can. He settles for a compromise, deep thrusts at a slow pace, and he’s certain that the noises that spill from Tamamori’s lips can’t be emulated in any other situation.

“Tama-chan,” Miyata moans, and it’s not only Tamamori’s hands that grab onto his back now.

Tamamori’s laugh has Miyata opening his eyes, noticing the movement next to him. “Looks like someone wants to join in.”

“Ah, I forgot that’s his cue to come to me,” Miyata gasps out, casting an apologetic glance over his shoulder like the robot’s feelings will be hurt if he’s denied. “Tama-chan, don’t—”

“No, I think you should let him,” Tamamori says, and Miyata turns his head back to the front to find the real Tamamori red-faced and smirking. “A living fantasy, right? He can fuck you while you fuck me.”

“I…” Miyata trails off when he feels a weight on his back. “Oh my god.”

“Mm, I like watching this a lot,” Tamamori says as Miyata arches at the first poke of slick fingers between his legs. “Will he listen if I tell him to do something?”

Miyata nods as he tries to get out his words. “Yeah, he’s programmed to do what he’s told.”

“Kiss his neck, Tama-chan,” Tamamori orders, and it’s so surreal to hear him use his own nickname like that, but then the robot is following directions and Miyata wonders why he never did it this way before. “Now put your fingers inside him, one at a time.”

“This is so weird,” Miyata gasps, thrusting a little harder when he feels the small penetration. He’s still stretched from the last time, but his efforts have him tightening enough to make the robot work for it.

“We’re weird,” Tamamori replies, flashing his lopsided grin before Miyata thrusts again and pulls a moan from his throat. “Oh, right there, Miyacchi.”

“Fuck,” Miyata says, because the Tamamori behind him is touching him just right and making him clutch onto the Tamamori in front of him, desperate for more. “Tama-chan, fuck me.”

“Damn,” Tamamori breathes as the robot follows orders, seeming to have no difficulty with the new position as he kneels behind Miyata and pushes into him. “This is so hot.”

“Tama,” Miyata chokes out, dropping the honorific so that the real Tamamori knows it’s for him. “Oh my god, it’s too much. I can’t…I’m gonna come.”

“Come for me,” Tamamori whispers into his hair, nails digging into his shoulder blades. “Come _into_ me.”

Miyata hopes Tamamori means that literally, because he can’t move on his own bouncing back between both of them like this, let alone be capable of pulling out. He groans out Tamamori’s name as orgasm rocks his body for the second time, this one fierce enough to leave him shaking and tingling with aftershocks while the robot keeps going.

“Enough, Tama-chan,” Miyata says breathlessly, and the movements behind him cease. Both Miyata and Tamamori turn their heads to watch the other Tamamori sit neatly on his knees, waiting for instruction.

“Now you have to clean him again, right?” Tamamori asks, his own breath a bit staggered. “What a hassle.”

“You’re the one who wanted to have a threesome with yourself,” Miyata points out, and Tamamori swats at him.

“You say that like you didn’t like it,” Tamamori teases back, and Miyata says nothing. “I don’t mind him. We can keep him around, you know, since you made all the effort to build him and all.”

Miyata smiles as he reads between the lines. “Does that mean we’re a ‘we’?”

“Well,” Tamamori draws out, sounding thoughtful. “I really enjoyed that a lot, and I love the way you love me, so I feel like eventually everything will fall into place.”

“I’ll take it,” Miyata says firmly, and a small smile curls Tamamori’s lips. “Thank you.”

“Who can pass up a two-for-one deal?” Tamamori asks with a wink. “I totally intend on trying him out myself, you know. Don’t tell me you wouldn’t think that’s hot.”

“I would definitely think that’s hot,” Miyata confirms, and Tamamori squirms a little, his smile falling. “What?”

“I feel really gross right now,” he admits.

“You’re the one who told me to come inside you,” Miyata points out.

Tamamori rolls his eyes. “Yeah, but…”

“Come on, let’s go take a bath,” Miyata says, gathering enough energy to pull the other man across the hall. “I’d much rather clean you than him anyway.”

That has Tamamori looking smug, which remains even when their fingers are wrinkled and the water is starting to cool. Though that probably has more to do with their incessant touching each other under the pretense of washing, accompanied by lots and lots of kisses. Miyata still can’t believe this had actually happened—this is the _real_ Tamamori in the bath with him, with a voice and a conscience and his own free will, choosing to be with Miyata like this.

Naturally Tamamori sleeps over that night, and Miyata fits nicely into his arms as they curl up on his bed together, the robot folded up in his closet. Miyata’s so happy that he could cry, but he resists the urge, at least until Tamamori squeezes him and whispers into his hair, “It will be less confusing if you just start calling me Yuuta.”

He hides a sniffle and just nods, though Tamamori probably knows what’s going on judging by the way he hugs Miyata even tighter. Somehow Miyata thinks that despite all their talk earlier, his robot won’t be used nearly as much anymore, and he’s okay with that. If it wasn’t for Miyata’s slight delusion about the whole matter, they wouldn’t be together now. And it was all thanks to science.


End file.
